Page 37 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“Touché,” she replied quietly and turned her attention out the window and to the stark autumn landscape fluttering by. It was cold and despite her woolen cape, she was thankful for the heavy blanket on her lap. Indeed, she was thankful as the minutes stretched into miles and Nightingale drifted farther and farther behind them. She was thankful to be free for however long it lasted. Free of her father. Free of Molly. Free of anyone and everyone who actually knew her.
She had no idea what this marriage, what this new life, would bring, but she decided to see it as a fresh start. Yes, and this trip to Scarborough was boding well. She had no spies reporting her every move to her father, no mother continuing to insist the General loved her despite his harsh ways, and no one keeping her a prisoner in her own home. Yes, freedom indeed.
She smiled, letting excitement well up within her again.
Henrietta glanced at the Marquess. He was smiling too. And looking directly at her while he did so.
“Why do you smile at me?” she asked softly, uncomfortably.
“Am I not allowed to smile at you either?”
“I can hardly enforce a no-smiling rule, my Lord. That would be ridiculous.”
“Then I am safe to smile at will then?” he mocked lightly. “Even at you?”
“You are.”
“Ah,” he chuckled, “at last reason prevails.”
“Should I take offense, my Lord Marquess, that you smile at me? Am I so droll that you would laugh openly at me?” She pushed strength into her words, willing herself not to let her injured pride make her weak.
“Not at all, Henrietta.Youwere smiling. I had yet to see you smile, understandably so. But when you smile, your entire face brightens, softens and shifts, and you come into your own in a way. ‘Tis hard to explain but you become, well, there’s no other way to say it. You becomeyou. Your smile then is not just lovely, but ‘tis something of great power. And I fell under its sway for it made me smile too.”
This was unsure ground for her, and so she did not respond, knowing not what to say. Currently this man was all mystery to her. Mysterious and charming. Her mother was right. Hecouldbe both.
With a rueful expression, he seemed to consider her silence. “Is your smile considered your appearance? Technically, I mean? If it is, I apologize for breaking our rule number two. And so soon after it was made!”
She could not help but smile again shyly. “As we did not clarify what is officially part of one’s appearance and what is not, I will, of course, accept your apology. My Lord Marquess,” she added formally.
“Thank you, Henrietta, most gracious Lady.Mymost gracious Lady.”
She bit her bottom lip again, a nervous habit, and locked her gaze again on the window.
His voice came out of nowhere with a pleasant richness to it. “What are the thoughts that make you smile?”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“I would simply like to know for future reference. In case I am ever called upon to make you smile.”
She did not volunteer anything. She would not — could not — trust him.
“No matter, my Lady. I can make my own report though we have not yet known each other more than one day.”
He studied her, as if sizing her up. At last he said, “Running. You seem to like running very much. At least,” he cleared his throat, “yesterday.”
Still she would not respond, her eyes fixed on the passing landscape.
“And cake,” he offered, continuing the conversation without her.
“You left your duck untouched last night, but you polished off Cook’s cake handily.”
“That wasgood cake,” she murmured.
“What else? Oh yes, and spying on your husband while he gallantly sleeps upon the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in the whole house.”
She stifled a snicker. “I was not spying on you.”
“You dare to deny it?” he accused playfully. “You are quite caught, my Lady!”
